


Baby, You Could Be The Death Of Me.

by mcaulfield



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: 8.2 spoilers, F/F, Political Marriage, Powerful Women Feeling Powerful Things, Rough Sex, forbidden relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-07-12 00:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19937338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcaulfield/pseuds/mcaulfield
Summary: Sometimes, the thing you need most comes to you in the most unlikely and dangerous packages. A series of encounters that bring everything into question.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates on other fics, I’ve been working on this monster.  
> Who decided there could be plot in my smutfic?
> 
> This was inspired by the song Death of Me by PVRIS.  
> Just go listen to it, it’s so very Sylvaina in so many ways.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sC0xkQA38t4

  
_This love looks like a loaded gun,_  
 _A noose around my neck, or sweet poison.  
If it gets in the wrong hands, then we’re fucked._

The wisps of hair on the back of Sylvanas’ neck felt like the silken promises of a curse under Jaina’s fingertips. She felt the way the Warchief’s body called out to her, for her to sink her fingertips deep into those pale blonde locks and draw their lips together again and again.

The burning gaze of the Banshee Queen met Jaina’s eyes when she finally drew them up and away from her lips, piercing into her with an intensity that never seemed to dim. It was always like this. _She_ was always like this. Jaina should have hated it. She should have hated every minute, every _second_ those eyes set their sights upon any inch of her in any situation. The woman in front of her had done so much damage, destroyed so many lives, and carried on as if none of it mattered.

When that smirk — that had no right to be as beautiful as it was — spread, instead of resentment, Jaina felt heat flare in her core and her knees grew weak. She almost opened her mouth to say something but caught herself before doing so. They didn’t talk when this happened. There was never to be any talking.

Jaina tightened her hold on the hair her fingers played with. Sylvanas’ eyes lidded and the Banshee hummed. The mage tilted her head up slightly as Sylvanas leaned in, meeting her lips firmly and with a hunger that pooled within them each time they were apart. Fangs grazed lips and tongues danced.

Stepping towards the mage, Sylvanas moved them across the room until Jaina’s back pressed against the wall firmly and Sylvanas’ thigh slid into place between Jaina’s. Jaina leaned her head back, parting their lips to catch her breath and watch as Sylvanas hungrily watched her own hands slide up the mage’s sides firmly, applying just enough pressure to be felt through her bodice as she palmed the curve of Jaina’s waist, up her sides, forward over breasts, finally sliding into place around Jaina’s neck — not in a grasp to constrict her airways but rather to link her fingers together behind Jaina’s head and pull the mage back in harshly to kiss her as she ground her hips forward.

Jaina slid her hands higher in Sylvanas’ hair, tugging just enough for the gentle pressure to elicit another one of those hums. She relished any sound she could get from the Banshee. Though it wasn’t like they were ever exactly quiet, feeling like she could affect the smug, cold, calculating, supposedly-unfeeling Banshee Queen gave Jaina a rush.

Sylvanas stilled her body and brought her hands down to Jaina’s hips, taking hold and lifting slightly. Knowing immediately what she wanted, Jaina obliged Sylvanas by lifting her legs, locking them by the ankles behind her back and grinding against the risen elf once her core was in contact with Sylvanas’ body once again. She heard a deep, amused chuckle come from the elf as she tucked her nose near Jaina’s ear and began to kiss and worry at the skin there with her tongue and the occasional reminder of teeth.

The sensation of chilled lips and the velvet brush of Sylvanas’ tongue against the small spots on her neck that made Jaina all but _wilt_ in the Banshee’s embrace caused the mage to let out a quiet moan, unbidden. She moved one hand from Sylvanas’ hair to clutch at her shoulder, both to hold Sylvanas closer to her body and to hold her balance as she rolled her hips against the elf.

Before long, Jaina found herself hoisted up and away from the wall with the ease of the Banshee Queen’s inhuman strength. Sylvanas carried her across the small room to the average-sized bed and crawled up over her, beginning to undo Jaina’s robes. Jaina arched her back to aid in the process but kept her legs locked around Sylvanas’ body, not letting her move far from the mage’s core. Only when Sylvanas began to work Jaina’s robes down her body to finally completely remove them did she relent and lower her legs — and the removal of Sylvanas’ body from her touch left Jaina feeling bereft.

Before returning to her position over Jaina, Sylvanas stayed where she was, sitting back to remove her own chestpiece, pauldrons, and cloak while Jaina watched her, knees bent and legs parted, clad only in her undergarments and the blush that adorned her upper chest and cheeks. Her lips were kiss-swollen and parted as she watched Sylvanas until the Banshee was half naked, hovering above her, removing the last of Jaina’s clothes and trailing kisses up her body as she returned, finally, to being face to face with the mage.

Sylvanas rested one palm on Jaina’s cheek as she leaned in to kiss her again, using it to guide the mage to follow her as she rolled onto her back and began to work off her own boots and the rest of her clothes. Jaina lay by her side, her arm reaching across Sylvanas’ body to hold onto her opposite shoulder as she leaned over the elf in order to continue their kiss. Whenever she could while Sylvanas finished removing her armor, Jaina ran her hand over the Warchief’s collarbone and splayed her fingers teasingly over Sylvanas’ chest.

Once Sylvanas was freed of the last of her clothes, she tugged Jaina over her by the arm that lay across her chest so the mage landed on top of Sylvanas and instantly found her lips claimed by the Banshee once again. The elf raked her nails down Jaina’s bare back down to her ass which she pulled against her with a squeeze. Jaina’s hips rolled instinctively, bearing down on the thigh she landed over as Sylvanas arched her hips up in time.

They fell into an easy rhythm that felt familiar — far more familiar than Jaina was comfortable admitting even to herself after relatively few encounters with the Banshee Queen. But it was no less intoxicating — the way Sylvanas’ nails dug into her skin slightly as she pulled the mage into her brought heat between her thighs each time. The way Sylvanas rolled them over and paused to look down at her with those burning crimson eyes left Jaina breathless every time. It all created an atmosphere around them that ensnared her and only heightened her craving for the elf to fill her.

Never one to linger, Sylvanas trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down Jaina’s neck, stopping to toy with her nipples and listen to the small sounds the mage made as she tugged on each one with her teeth before continuing down, trailing a line of kisses and swipes of her tongue across the smooth skin of Jaina’s stomach. Her hands rested on Jaina’s sides, firmly sliding down to her hips as Sylvanas situated herself between Jaina’s thighs.

Tilting her head to the left, Sylvanas kissed and suckled at the skin where Jaina’s thigh met her body, worrying the area between her teeth and soothing it with her tongue as she marked it a few times. Jaina’s hands ran down Sylvanas’ still-extended forearms before she tangled her fingers in Sylvanas’ hair, trying to tug her to her core.

Sylvanas chuckled, a deep, warm, rumbling sound at Jaina’s insistence and rubbed her thumbs over the skin on Jaina’s hips as if to tell her to be patient. She continued to kiss and nip at the skin on either side of Jaina’s core, alternating sides and trailing across the skin there with her tongue, marking it until there were at least five or six marks that would last for some time. She never broke the skin with her fangs, but sometimes it felt like she came close. Whenever she did, Jaina’s hands would tense in her hair and the mage’s back would arch. She’d never admit it but she wanted to feel Sylvanas’ teeth pierce her skin — even just once.

At the first swipe of Sylvanas’ tongue between her folds, Jaina released a shuddering breath. She felt the tension drain from her shoulders and her hands relaxed in Sylvanas’ hair. She’d needed this. It had been too long since they last stole away to an inn in an inconspicuous town. There’d been so much going on for both of them between the faction war, Nazjatar, Azshara and N’zoth, and other typical matters of business for both of their stations. She needed the way Sylvanas could ravage her, needed the release, the thrill, the feeling of being absorbed in a moment intensely enough that she could forget her name, forget her title as Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, and just _feel._

Sylvanas’ hands tightened around Jaina’s hips slightly as the Banshee took the mage’s clit between her lips, sucking a little as she ran her tongue slowly over it in lazy patterns. Jaina could feel the chill of undead energy Sylvanas radiated grow ever so slightly, lowering the temperature in their immediate vicinity just enough for her to know what was coming next. She felt her core clench and felt Sylvanas smirk into her folds as she released Jaina’s clit to trace her tongue down near her entrance.

Jaina let her eyes slip closed as she felt the shift in Sylvanas’ energy, sighing and feeling herself grow wetter as tendrils of the Banshee’s energy wrapped around her wrists, pulling them from Sylvanas’ hair and pinning them over her head, causing her back to arch. Similarly, she felt two wrap around her ankles, spreading her legs wide. The feeling of vulnerability this stirred in the mage should have alarmed her — this was _Sylvanas Windrunner_ — but she found herself just feeling breathless and anticipating further touches as Sylvanas dragged her tongue back up to Jaina’s clit.

And she was right — she felt the brush of the risen elf’s energy against her thigh as another tendril traced higher towards the mage’s core. She stifled a whine, canting her hips towards Sylvanas, towards the tendril that now traced her outer lips. She didn’t _care_ how needy she seemed. She’d wanted nothing more than to feel Sylvanas inside of her for _weeks._ It had come to occupy her thoughts nearly constantly.

The memory of the things she knew Sylvanas could do to her body, the way she could make her feel with just a look or the simplest touch, was enough for Jaina to take herself over and over, but she was never satisfied. She couldn’t replicate the way the Banshee’s energy felt, couldn’t fill herself the same, couldn’t mimic the sharp, swiftly-shifting patterns of her tongue.

Sylvanas hummed as she parted Jaina’s folds with the tendril, obviously able to sense how wet Jaina already was. Looking down, Jaina saw a vicious smirk on those lips. She briefly wondered if Sylvanas ever just smiled, or if it was _always_ a smirk. She wanted to say something back — wanted to make a retort to the obviously smug Warchief whose ego certainly didn’t need any more bolstering — but she couldn’t. That was a rule. One of the very few they had.

* * *

_It hadn’t been a clean or easy fight. There wasn’t supposed to be a fight at all. But one too many slights against the Banshee Queen by rowdy, likely drunk-on-the-job Alliance warriors that were just a little too close to the Warchief herself was met with an arrow in the windpipe from over-reactive guard dog Nathanos Blightcaller. And with that, all hell broke loose._

_Genn Greymane was the next to launch an attack, snarling obscenities as he launched himself at the undead archer. Before Jaina’s eyes, she watched worgen after worgen shift, launching themselves into the fray after their King. Swiftly following were the rest of the Alliance champions, and the Horde champions knew how to act fast, as well._

_With Sylvanas herself the only leader of the Horde present, for a change, Jaina locked eyes with her immediately. A challenging smirk appeared on Sylvanas’ lips — a standard look she held around combat. She probably derived her only joy, if you could call it that, from inflicting pain. That’s what Jaina concluded, at least, as she quickly put up a frost barrier and blinked across some of the now-battlefield so the Warchief would be in closer range of her spells. Without the other leaders around, and two leaders of the Alliance to support her, Jaina figured now would be the chance to move in on the Banshee Queen, the one who imprisoned and intended to kill Baine — who had shown her nothing but benevolence even if she couldn’t accept some of that to be true after the events at Theramore._

_Sylvanas was quicker to react than Jaina expected. Having never faced Sylvanas directly in combat, she only knew of the Banshee’s power through stories and debriefings. She didn’t underestimate her, of course, but the exact limits of Sylvanas’ power was somewhat of an unknown to the mage. She’d have to tread carefully, she realized, as Sylvanas all but flowed with Elven grace and undead stillness farther away from the center of battle._

_Jaina knew Sylvanas was trying to lure her away from any swift assistance from Genn Greymane or Shandris Feathermoon. She was looking to have an advantage over Jaina, or at least to even the playing fields. But Jaina was not deterred — she was, with the exception of Azshara, possibly the most powerful mage on the face of Azeroth. The power of a god thrummed with energy in her staff. She could change the very face of the planet if she so chose. Sylvanas’ powers may be great, but Jaina was sure that she at least equalled if not eclipsed that strength._

_So she followed, blinking after each time Sylvanas slipped in and out of corporeal form to draw Jaina away. The clamor and screams of battle faded behind her as the Banshee drew her into an abandoned tower, the chase bringing them two stories above the ruins of Zin-Azshari, where the skirmish broke out. Once they had reached the upper level, however, Jaina was unprepared for the casual way in which Sylvanas regarded her._

_The risen elf all but sauntered around the back edge of the room, dragging her fingertips over the back of an ancient, crumbling stone chair as she regarded Jaina with a slow smirk._

_“We meet again, Proudmoore,” Sylvanas purred as she rounded the crumbling chair and stood before it, one hand on her hip, looking entirely too casual to be face to face with a sworn enemy._

_“I’m not here to play your games, Banshee,” Jaina spat. “If you think you have me at a disadvantage, you’re sorely mistaken.” Sylvanas chuckled._

_“You think I’m here to kill you?” She asked. Jaina raised an eyebrow._

_“It doesn’t matter if you are. I have the opportunity to kill you now.” Sylvanas chuckled at that._

_“I’d like to see you try.”_

_With that said, and at an inhuman speed, Sylvanas suddenly moved towards Jaina. Caught off-guard, she was helpless to stop the Banshee from shoving her with her full body force into the wall. Hand to hand combat wasn’t where the mage excelled, but she was no stranger to it, either — one couldn’t be when growing up in Kul Tiras._

_Sylvanas had her pinned, one arm across her chest, pressing her into the wall. Up close, Jaina could feel Sylvanas’ undead energy much more clearly. A chill radiated from the risen elf, which Jaina found herself oddly soothed by. Despite the potentially fatal circumstances, there was something about the chill and the faint scent of cold steel, faded flowers, and a slight spice that made the mage feel like she knew Sylvanas wouldn’t kill her._

_“You won’t kill me,” she said, surprising herself. She hadn’t meant to speak that conclusion aloud._

_“Excuse me?” Sylvanas asked, leaning back a touch to look at Jaina, incredulous. “I don’t think you’re in much of a place to say such things.” She leaned back in, then, pressing Jaina a little tighter to the wall with her forearm across the human’s chest. “One wail, and you could be dust.” Content that her slip-up had caught Sylvanas off-guard, Jaina decided to push a little harder at Sylvanas’ mental walls._

_“But you won’t,” she said, challenging Sylvanas. Sylvanas glowered and leaned in, their noses but an inch apart. The smell of cold steel, faded flowers, and slight spice could be — and were — scented on each breath Jaina took in. A wave of that same safety washed over her again._

_“You’re lucky you’re useful, Proudmoore,” Sylvanas purred quietly. “If you weren’t so vital to, well, your frankly pathetic Alliance, then perhaps we could have had more...civil talks,” she quipped before uncharacteristically taking her index finger and booping Jaina’s nose before walking away. Jaina felt heat spread across her face as she caught her breath and righted herself. Sylvanas had taken to pacing the perimeter of half of the circular room._

_Jaina’s blush, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed and, before she could finish catching her breath from when Sylvanas had first pinned her, Jaina was shoved into the wall behind her again. The impact was unexpected, but what really took Jaina by surprise was the look in Sylvanas’ eyes — it was hungry yet also searching, looking for something. Some sort of reaction, Jaina was sure. So she tried not to give Sylvanas the satisfaction._

_“Do that again and I might start to think you_ **_like_ ** _pushing me up against a wall,” Jaina challenged. Sylvanas quirked one long, slim eyebrow at that with an amused smile._

 _“Bold of you to assume I don’t,” Sylvanas replied, catching Jaina entirely off-guard. She should have known, really, not to try and enter a battle of words with the Warchief. She was sharp, with a quick mind and a knack for talking people into circles during the few joint meetings the Alliance and Horde leadership had held recently to address the situation with Azshara and N’zoth. Jaina swallowed hard as the Banshee leaned forward to murmur directly into her ear. “But_ **_I_ ** _wasn’t the one blushing.”_

_Jaina felt heat flare in her cheeks again and just about choked on indignance. This was certainly not what she’d expected when she’d taunted the Banshee. She’d hoped to rile her up a bit, yes, but not in a way that would provoke any further contact with the Warchief that was anything less than a fight. This teasing, this almost playful attitude it had brought out in the risen elf was about the opposite of what she’d expected. And she wanted to accuse Sylvanas of some sort of trickery with the way the Banshee’s scent wafting over her swayed her into a likely false sense of relative security. She wasn’t content, it wasn’t that powerful, but she didn’t fear for her life. Which made her nervous._

_Sylvanas hadn’t moved away entirely, her burning red eyes ablaze just before Jaina’s face. Her expression was unreadable, somewhere between searching and hungry and dangerous in a way that made Jaina feel anything but danger._

_“I could kill you right now,” the Banshee tried to reiterate. Jaina opened her mouth to reply but was cut off. “We both know that won’t happen. But that leaves the matter of why.” Sylvanas pushed off the wall and circled the room again, taking a seat in the stone chair with the crumbling back much as she would have lounged arrogantly across her own throne. “You intrigue me, Jaina Proudmoore,” she purred. Jaina crossed her arms and simply leaned against the wall, unwilling to get closer to her enemy. “Your life in many ways has run parallel to mine in recent history. Yet you and I have made such different choices. You’re different from the rest of the Alliance leaders. I’ve watched your mind at work during the meetings.” She crossed one leg over the other. “I_ **_recognize_ ** _it.” Jaina glowered at her from across the room._

_“You don’t recognize a thing, Banshee.” The retort was dark with the promise of violence Jaina still wanted to enact upon the Warchief._

_“I recognize far more than you think, Jaina. And you could be so much more than they let you be.” Sylvanas rose from the stone chair and approached Jaina much as she’d approached Anduin in Lordaeron, the last time they’d met outside a few political meetings recently. Jaina straightened up, on her guard. “We would be_ **_unstoppable_ ** _,” Sylvanas half-whispered. “We could change the way the entire world works, you know. And I don’t mean just from sheer power. You’re sharp and diplomatic.”_

_“What are you getting at?” Jaina cut in, growing impatient with the Warchief’s fondness for hearing herself speak._

_“I propose a union.”_

_“A union?”_

_“Yes. Become mine and we will bring in a new era. It is clear the Horde and Alliance are closer now than they have been since we faced the Legion on Argus.”_

_“Beco— okay, wait. Become yours? What sort of_ **_union_ ** _is this? Slavery? A hostage?” Jaina sputtered. A devious smirk grew on the Warchief’s face. Sylvanas leaned in closer._

_“No. A marriage.”_

_“Marriage? Are you_ **_insane_ ** _? No. Never. Certainly not with_ **_you,_ ** _of all options.”_

_“You know they’d only take a union between the factions’ most powerful seriously. And that would be us.”_

_Jaina’s thoughts were at war. Inches away from her was her enemy, the woman she’d chased up this ancient tower to kill for her laundry list of war crimes and atrocities. But Jaina had fought for and been denied peace for so long. And if Sylvanas remained Warchief unchecked, there would either be civil war or the world would descend even further into chaos. But...to_ **_marry_ ** _Sylvanas Windrunner? To throw away what few shreds of hope she still had for a happy marriage? Could she bring herself to sacrifice that much in a final attempt at ending the constant bloodshed between the factions?_

_“You only want this to avoid paying for your crimes,” Jaina spat. And she half-believed it. There was hardly a place left in the Horde for the elf. Sylvanas’ days were likely numbered and she might have been afraid of that. This was probably a vy for power as much as a desperate attempt to save her own life. “Why would you even marry for such a thing? I’ve never known you to be the peace-loving type.”_

_“Perhaps not. But I tire of playing the part of the impulsive monster. We could create and rule something unlike anything that exists now. It would give us power as much as it would cease the needless bloodshed between the factions. I may loathe your people but it gets boring after a couple of decades to mindlessly kill.”_

_Jaina had to concede that Sylvanas had a point. She wasn’t one to gravitate towards power for power’s sake but she was someone who would do the work politically to manage things. She could understand Sylvanas’ thought process because her own mirrored it, a fact which almost disturbed her. But it made sense. The Banshee to rule over the action and the ruthless sides of it all, the human to manage the Kingdom from within. Loath as she was to admit it, they would likely be efficient and, well, powerful together. If they could stand one another at all._

_“You know that would only work if we actually could_ **_stand_ ** _each other,” Jaina replied. “I don’t see that happening any time soon.”_

_“No?” Sylvanas replied, raising an eyebrow. One ear flicked slightly. “You’ve managed a normal conversation in normal tones for a few minutes now with me inches away from you. You’re discussing logistics with me already. I watched those gears turning inside your head...you’ve come to the same conclusion I have. At least politically.”_

_“As if it’s anything else,” Jaina scoffed. Sylvanas let out a single huff of amusement._

_“It could be,” she purred simply. Jaina’s eyes widened and she leaned back._

_“No. Don’t get any ideas, Windrunner.”_

_“It feels like a lifetime ago...but I remember catching your furtive glances when you would visit Silvermoon.”_

_“That was different.” Her voice held the chill of ice and the air around them dropped in temperature from more than Sylvanas’ undead energy. “_ **_You_ ** _are different.”_

_“Am I, really?” Sylvanas replied with a wry smile. “You never got the courage to get up and talk to me but I know you know how I directed my Rangers. It was no secret I was ruthless even then.”_

_“You weren’t a despicable_ **_war criminal_ ** _,” Jaina spat._

_“War crimes are only war crimes if you’re the enemy. Otherwise, they’re necessary evils.”_

_“Oh, so I’m to believe Teldrassil was a ‘necessary evil!’ Fuck off, Sylvanas. My answer is no.”_

_Sylvanas’ eyes flared and Jaina felt the Banshee’s energy shift. The mage braced herself, expecting an attack. But none came._

_“I could explain it all, Jaina. But I’m not about to hand out Horde war secrets for free. Maybe if you were my bride, I would. Maybe in time you could understand it all. It will all work out, Jaina. But you and I could build it_ **_better_ ** _.”_

 _“I’m not about to sacrifice what remaining chance I may have at a fulfilling marriage just for you to stay your_ **_execution_ ** _, Banshee. The Horde and the Alliance can find peace another way,” Jaina said firmly. Sylvanas leaned back in._

_“So you think this wouldn’t be fulfilling,” Sylvanas replied. “What makes you so sure?”_

_“Besides the fact that I absolutely cannot_ **_stand_ ** _you and your childish arrogance? You could_ **_never_ ** _fulfill me personally.” It was a low blow, maybe, but Jaina wanted to_ **_hurt_ ** _Sylvanas. If she wasn’t going to engage in combat physically, she could at least hurt Sylvanas somehow. The Warchief hummed, a wider smirk growing on her face._

_“Is that a challenge?”_

_“What?”_

_“Are you so sure I couldn’t give you what you want?” The Banshee Queen asked._

_“You really are as terrible as you seem,” Jaina drawled. “No. I’m sure.” Sylvanas chuckled and leaned in further, her lips next to Jaina’s ear._

_“Would you consider my proposal if I could?”_

_Again, Jaina felt oddly at ease surrounded by Sylvanas’ aura. She felt that she knew, somehow, that Sylvanas would relent if Jaina stuck to her guns. Sylvanas may have lacked honor in battle but Jaina knew enough about the Banshee to know she wouldn’t take something so personal from someone who was wholly unwilling. Any time something similar was suggested, she flew off the handle._

_But she was amused by the Warchief’s question. It almost seemed as though Sylvanas actually_ **_wanted_ ** _Jaina in some capacity. The thought struck a chord of fear and curiosity in the mage momentarily. Could Sylvanas actually_ **_desire_ ** _her? Beyond this play at a stay of her execution? Was Sylvanas even_ **_capable_ ** _of desire?_

_Jaina regarded the Warchief cautiously. It was true she had thought Sylvanas incredibly beautiful in life. But she had changed since her death. She was not that woman anymore, even if her vessel was preserved and...lived, in its own way. The ashy purple hue of her skin, the burns beneath her eyes, and those crimson eyes themselves painted a different picture than the visage of the pale, beautiful Ranger-General._

_Tides, was she really_ **_considering_ ** _this? Marrying the Warchief of the Horde for the peace of the Alliance if Sylvanas could...satisfy her physically? She was almost certain she wouldn’t be able to stand even_ **_kissing_ ** _the Banshee Queen, much less to have and enjoy sex with her. She almost wanted to see Sylvanas try, if only for the fact that Jaina knew Sylvanas would fail. She glanced at Sylvanas’ lips. Maybe it would be worth it to see the Banshee fail. To see that confident smirk fall. What did she really have to lose?_

_“I’d like to see you try,” Jaina taunted, echoing Sylvanas’ words from before. Sylvanas quirked an eyebrow._

_“Is that so?” Sylvanas asked. Jaina hesitated a moment._

_“Yes.” The answer came out far more confident than Jaina felt as she glanced at the Banshee’s lips again. All she had to do was tolerate Sylvanas’ mouth on hers for but a moment. Then she could throw it in her face that her plan was an absolute failure._

_A feral grin grew on Sylvanas’ lips as she brought one hand up to cradle Jaina’s cheek. The mage took a deep breath to steady herself, unintentionally drinking in that concoction of cold steel, faded flowers, and spice that made up the Warchief’s immediate aura. It was just a kiss. She just had to let it happen long enough to feel and express her utter revulsion. Jaina watched as Sylvanas leaned in until it was no longer comfortable for her to keep her eyes open._

_The feelings evoked by the initial press of the Banshee Queen’s lips against Jaina’s startled the mage enough to open her eyes again — those lips, which she’d expected to be dry or aged or anything bad, were soft, chilled, and tender. Jaina felt her eyes slip closed again as Sylvanas’ mouth moved against her own and the Warchief deepened the kiss._

_Jaina wasn’t supposed to_ **_like_ ** _kissing Sylvanas. She wasn’t supposed to breathe in the Warchief’s unique scent and feel like she wanted to press herself up against the risen elf’s body. She wasn’t supposed to let out a quiet groan when she felt Sylvanas’ arms wrap around her. She wasn’t supposed to willingly part her lips when she felt the chilled, silken touch of the Banshee’s tongue swipe across her lower lip. But she did._

_Sylvanas’ tongue in her mouth felt like nothing Jaina had ever experienced. She was used to kisses being hot, messy things, not smooth and refreshing and so Tidesdamned enticing. She let Sylvanas’ tongue dance around hers and found herself wrapping her arms around the elf, one hand grasping desperately at a shoulder blade while the other fisted tightly into Sylvanas’ hair...to pull her closer._

_For the third time, Jaina found herself pressed up against the wall by Sylvanas. For the first time, it made her arch her back and moan into Sylvanas’ mouth. She pulled back to gasp quietly when she felt Sylvanas’ hands on her hips, thumbs rubbing against her hip bones, and the elf took that opportunity to begin kissing Jaina’s neck._

_Jaina couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped her lips when she felt Sylvanas’ tongue swirl against her neck in loose patterns. The way Sylvanas’ undead energy radiated a chill and kept the Banshee’s body temperature low felt like heaven against the mage’s quickly-heating skin. Not to mention Sylvanas’ sheer_ **_skill_ ** _. She worried at Jaina’s neck with tongue and lips and a hint of teeth in a way that left Jaina trying her damnedest to keep her hips from rolling._

_Sylvanas, of course, could feel the way Jaina’s hips tremored ever so slightly under her palms and slid one thigh between Jaina’s hips. Jaina gasped, her hips stuttering forward as she failed to control herself. She had been such a fool to challenge the Warchief like that. She should have known Sylvanas held some degree of skill given how her every action seemed to drip with the seductive power of a jungle cat. She’d just thought that Sylvanas being undead would be enough to deter her — but it turned out, as Sylvanas bit down somewhat gently on Jaina’s pulse point and the mage let out a moan while her hips finally truly rolled, that she couldn’t give fewer shits about that._

_“_ **_Tides,_ ** _Sylvanas,” Jaina moaned as the Banshee swirled her tongue against the skin she’d just bitten. Sylvanas chuckled darkly into the mage’s neck, a sound which sent heat rushing down Jaina’s spine. Sylvanas kissed a trail up Jaina’s neck, swiping that sinuous tongue against her skin from time to time, until she was right by Jaina’s ear again._

_“You like that?” Sylvanas asked, her tone suggesting she already knew and had expected it. She guided Jaina’s hips to roll against her thigh again. Jaina exhaled sharply to try and cover a whimper at the sensation of Sylvanas’ leathers through the disheveled layers of her robes._

_“Damnit, Sylvanas,_ **_yes_ ** _,” Jaina murmured quietly as her hips rolled against the Banshee’s thigh of their own accord. She turned her head and used the hand still fisted in Sylvanas’ hair to guide their lips back together, pressing her lips to the risen elf’s voraciously. She felt Sylvanas’ breath on her skin as she kissed her deeply._

_Suddenly, however, Sylvanas stilled. Jaina groaned in question, unable to stop her hips from continuing to roll against Sylvanas’ thigh until the Banshee held her firmly in place. The elf pulled away and Jaina noticed Sylvanas’ ears twitching when she opened her eyes. She paused for a moment to see if she could hear what Sylvanas clearly heard._

_The scuffle down below in the ruins of Zin-Azshari had died down. She could overhear Greymane and Nathanos arguing but couldn’t make out their words as Shandris tried to talk over them — but again, she couldn’t make out any part of the conversation clearly enough to know what had occurred. Nobody sounded gravely injured, at least._

_“We should go,” Sylvanas breathed. Her voice sounded a touch deeper, a hint more otherworldly...Jaina would’ve almost said breathless, if such a thing could be said about Sylvanas Windrunner. For her part, Jaina managed to slowly catch her breath as she nodded._

_“What are they saying?” She asked quietly._

_“They stopped the fighting before there were too many serious injuries but are arguing about whether or not to find us.” Sylvanas paused, typical smirk settling into place. “I doubt you’d want them to find us like this,” she continued, her eyes trailing down Jaina’s form with an open hunger. Jaina gulped, heat flaring in her core._

_“N-no, I don’t think so,” she replied, finally removing her hand from Sylvanas’ hair and moving both hands to Sylvanas’ hips, mirroring the elf’s grasp on her. “But this doesn’t change anything. A kiss won’t make me up and_ **_marry_ ** _you. It’s going to take far more than that.” Jaina wasn’t sure if she was saying that because she challenged Sylvanas to sexually satisfying her and that hadn’t happened or because she_ **_wanted_ ** _Sylvanas to sexually satisfy her. Maybe it was a bit of both. Sylvanas leaned in and kissed her again._

_“Meet me at Stillwater Pond in Tirisfal in two days’ time if you want more,” Sylvanas breathed against Jaina’s lips. “I’ll be waiting,” she continued before turning incorporeal and drifting out of the room. Jaina paused, collecting herself more fully, and followed the Banshee back down to where the fight had broken out._

* * *

They had established rules after their first coupling — Jaina claimed herself unconvinced that she should throw her life with the Alliance and possibly only chance for marriage away to Sylvanas, and so demanded further investigation into the elf’s ability to satisfy her. They both knew it was a ruse, an excuse to steal away from their duties to fuck each other senseless. Sylvanas almost liked it that way, she’d admitted, though she still urged Jaina to consider her proposal. Time was running out for her and they both knew it.

Jaina was beginning to have mixed feelings about the Banshee’s likely-impending end. She felt she’d learned much about Sylvanas’ psyche through how she treated her before, during, and after sex. There were hints of Sylvanas’ true character in her every action, like how the tendril of Sylvanas’ energy slowly, _carefully_ entered her despite how the elf had Jaina pinned and spread wide. It made the mage shudder and buck her hips, whining.

“ _My,_ you’re a needy little thing,” Sylvanas purred, breaking their own rules — though, in a way, Sylvanas breaking the rules had become a much-anticipated part of their dalliances for Jaina after Sylvanas had first shown the mage that she could manipulate her Banshee energy in that way. Talking was new and it felt dangerous to both of them. Jaina could hear the slight fondness, the slight _reverence_ in Sylvanas’ tone. She knew the elf would never admit it, but she also knew Sylvanas was somewhat enraptured by Jaina whenever she was underneath the Warchief.

“Please, Sylvanas,” Jaina groaned, trying to grind her hips down so the tendril would enter her deeper. She’d thrown away her pride after the second time Sylvanas had fucked her so thoroughly with her energy — it ignited a fire within the mage she’d never known possible.

Sylvanas simply hummed, as if in arrogant thought, pushing further into the mage at a torturous pace. Jaina knew what Sylvanas wanted. She knew the words she had to say to get Sylvanas to ravage her properly. Every time she said them, she felt closer to accepting Sylvanas’ proposal. And she was sure Sylvanas knew what those words did to her by the way she grew impossibly wetter just from thinking them. Jaina whimpered.

“ _Please,_ Warchief,” Jaina moaned, grinding her hips down again. “Please fuck me,” she added on in a whisper. That part wasn’t needed, but she’d waited long enough. She felt like she’d about burst if Sylvanas didn’t start fucking her in earnest.

She didn’t have to wait long — she never did, once she addressed Sylvanas properly. Sylvanas’ energy plunged all the way into her without preamble, causing Jaina to arch her back what little amount she could with her arms and legs pinned as they were. Jaina let out a long groan as she felt Sylvanas’ lips wrap around her clit, the tendril of energy thrusting deep into her core at a merciless pace.

Sylvanas hummed around Jaina’s clit, the sensation adding to Jaina’s near-overstimulation in a way that made the mage’s hips buck. She wanted to plunge her hands into Sylvanas’ hair and tug at the fine blonde strands. She wanted to pull Sylvanas tighter against her core. She wanted to be able to thrust her hips freely in time with Sylvanas’ energy pounding her.

She wanted it all — but not more than she loved the feeling of Sylvanas pinning her down and spreading her, denying her the opportunity for any of it. Whimpers and moans left her lips freely and she strained ever so slightly against the hold Sylvanas’ energy had on her. It wasn’t because she wanted to break the hold — she simply couldn’t help the way her body squirmed and flexed under the Banshee’s touch.

Jaina could feel her climax building rapidly. Between how badly she’d wanted Sylvanas inside of her for weeks and the way it felt to finally be with the elf again, she didn’t stand a chance of lasting long at all. And, as hot as it was to feel so out of control with desire, she did feel a pang of disappointment. She knew, once she climaxed, that their coupling would be over soon. They never spent long together, a fact which was starting to grate on Jaina. She found herself longing for Sylvanas’ touch in the afterglow, as well, and wanted to draw their time together out as long as possible. But it felt pretty impossible with Sylvanas filling her so full and taking her so hard.

Jaina’s whimpers and whines increased in pitch and frequency as Sylvanas continued to work her over. She could feel herself clench down around the energy, felt her juices all but dripping out of her, felt her abs begin to tighten as a coil of heat wound tighter and tighter inside of her. She practically came on the spot when one of Sylvanas’ hands reached up to pinch a nipple and the other went down to spread her wetness lewdly across the heated flesh of her nether region. Strings of curses spilled from her lips between breathless noises, the half-sentences comprised more and more of Sylvanas’ name and insistent pleas as she grew ever closer. Sylvanas looked up at her from between her legs, meeting her eyes with that crimson glow.

“You want to cum, Proudmoore?” Sylvanas asked with a smirk.

 _“Tides,_ yes, Sylvanas. _Please,”_ she replied, face growing redder if possible as she felt herself grow impossibly wetter.

“Do you think you _deserve_ to?” Sylvanas asked in response with a quirk of an eyebrow. All Jaina could do in response was whine, a high-pitched and breathy noise that pleaded more strongly than any utterance could. The Banshee Queen hummed, eyes lidding and smirk widening, and began to lean back down to Jaina’s clit while murmuring, “then cum for me, Jaina. Show me how badly you’ve wanted this.”

“Oh— _gods,”_ Jaina managed to choke out before becoming a mess of pleasured noise and tremors, every muscle in her body tightening as her hips furiously bucked in their small range of motion. Her climax hit hard and fast at Sylvanas’ words, much like Sylvanas continued to fuck her through most of her orgasm.

As Jaina came down from her climax, Sylvanas allowed her energy to recede back into herself. The elf lapped at Jaina’s dripping core, taking in the mage’s flavor greedily. Jaina ran her hands through the Banshee’s hair semi-affectionately, a warm, sated smile on her face. Each time, she found herself less and less shocked by her desire for Sylvanas to drape herself over Jaina after orgasm, though she still didn’t dare voice it.

The way Sylvanas hovered over her and kissed her deeply so she could taste herself on the Warchief’s lips would have to do until Jaina had the courage to because, as soon as their lips parted, Sylvanas traced the back of her knuckles down Jaina’s cheek with a look that could have been considered fondness were it not for the feral smirk on her lips.

“I’ll see you at the council tomorrow, little mage,” Sylvanas murmured before shedding her corporeal form and leaving the rented room through the window.


	2. Chapter 2

_‘Cause heaven knows_   
_What you do to me._   
_You could chain me up_   
_Or set me free, yeah._   
_You could suffocate_   
_Or let me breathe, yeah._ _  
Baby, you could be the death of me._

Jaina cursed internally at the way her body responded to Sylvanas’ smug chuckle from across the war table. She was at a small meeting in Dalaran between herself, Anduin, Thrall, and Sylvanas, a most unlikely gathering but things had turned dire in Nazjatar after the champions of both factions defeated Azshara. The naga queen’s disappearance into the shadowy depths was of serious concern — both because of the uncertainty and because of the way the naga had turned beyond hostile towards both factions. It was no longer safe for them to have established bases but they couldn’t afford to lose that ground either. So, when Jaina felt warmth trickle down her spine and heat rise in her cheeks at Sylvanas’ snarkiness, the archmage found herself doubly frustrated.

Her response, as usual, did not go unnoticed by Sylvanas. The elf’s eyes narrowed slightly with a smirk from the other side of the too-empty table. It would have been better for Jaina if the entire leadership of the Alliance and Horde had been present, maybe, but things were still too volatile between the factions — and within the Horde itself. Sylvanas had been peculiarly absent for some time while the factions scrambled about in Nazjatar but, with word out that Azshara’s defeat meant a _worsening_ of the situation rather than an improvement, Sylvanas had returned swiftly — and with a little bit of vengeance.

The Horde had been all but whipped into shape with Sylvanas’ return, though not exactly to the pleasure of Saurfang and Thrall. She hadn’t been _cruel,_ or nearly as ruthless as she could be, but Sylvanas made it clear that open dissent and disorder among the ranks would be treated as what it technically was — treason against the Horde. She gave them an ultimatum as a result: rejoin the Horde and allow her to direct the Horde in a way she _claimed_ had a domino effect that would ultimately lead them to victory against N’zoth...or civil war.

Begrudgingly, and with the knowledge that they couldn’t afford to stretch their resources any thinner, Saurfang and Thrall fell back into the ranks of Sylvanas’ Horde. The tension was still there, the resistance was still an undercurrent, but the Horde moved as one unit again instead of two, for the time being. And, despite the extreme wariness he held about her plans, Anduin seemed a little relieved to have avoided the open conflict which had seemed imminent. Sylvanas as Warchief could be addressed another time, when the entirety of Azeroth wasn’t almost at the whims of N’zoth.

It had again been a few weeks since Jaina and Sylvanas slipped away to a no-name inn in a no-name town. Such was the case when the fate of the entire world hung in the balance. And every time Jaina caught the slightest hint of fangs in Sylvanas’ smirk or heard that infuriating, sarcastic, honeyed tone she found herself struggling to keep the thought of backing Sylvanas up against a wall and attacking her neck with lips and teeth off her mind. Sylvanas didn’t ever let Jaina reciprocate during their time away and she was growing impatient with the need to see Sylvanas’ resolve crumble at her touch.

With Anduin and Thrall present, Jaina had to focus almost entirely on controlling her outward reactions to Sylvanas. It felt inescapable — she was attracted to just how Sylvanas _was_ all the time. It wasn’t reserved just to how it felt to have the Banshee’s hands and lips on her skin, it extended to her entire attitude, including when she was being difficult and wry. Thankfully, the next moves were being finalized and allocation of the factions’ respective champions was generally settled, meaning she could escape from Sylvanas’ knowing looks and take herself in the comfort of her own home soon.

But the Banshee Queen had other ideas. As the four of them walked down the corridor towards the entrance, Sylvanas slipped a piece of parchment in Jaina’s palm as she strode by. The elf gave no indication that anything had happened, brushing by Thrall ahead of them with her nose in the air and cloak rippling behind her. Once Sylvanas had disappeared into the masses outside, Jaina paused to look at the palm-sized piece of parchment she’d been given.

On it, the only thing was an elegantly penned 7-T. That was — was Sylvanas _insane?_ Scratch that, she likely was, but this was risky even for the Warchief. This wasn’t a no-name inn in a no-name town. It was one of their last-choice locations on their list of options. The list had been randomized, not listed by priority, but there were a few they’d listed and never intended to use. Seven was one of them. The risk of discovery was monumental, comparatively speaking...but Jaina wasn’t about to deny Sylvanas. She knew she wouldn’t be able to do that despite her fear. The capital T indicated that same night, as well. Despite her nerves about the whole thing, the mage couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through her knowing Sylvanas wanted her that badly.

The setup was simple enough. Disguised, they met downstairs in the Ledgermain Lounge that evening and shared a drink or two. Then, as business picked up at the bar, they requested one of the rooms upstairs and slipped into the room unnoticed — because who would bat an eye at a couple of night elves taking a room for the night?

Once inside, Jaina quickly cast a few wards on the room to ensure absolute privacy. There would be no intrusions and no sound would leak out. Jaina’s unique strength and Sylvanas’ undead power would be masked as well, in case anyone were looking for them for any reason. As soon as she was done, she found Sylvanas pressed against her and her back against the door, the Banshee’s lips trailing wet kisses up her neck.

Jaina exhaled sharply and grasped desperately at Sylvanas’ body. She bit back a curse at the sensation of those smooth, cool lips against the nape of her neck and shuddered when she felt the elf’s tongue swirl against the skin below her ear. It was so hard not to say anything — it was growing harder and harder, she’d found, to just lay back and wordlessly enjoy what Sylvanas could give. The passion that boiled inside of her and the fierce way Sylvanas always took her left her wanting more. More than she’d thought she _ever_ would. She choked off a whine with the effort it took not to speak, not to curse or say Sylvanas’ name.

“ _Speak,_ Jaina,” Sylvanas murmured against her ear. “I think we are well past the point of me proving I can satisfy you.” She felt one of Sylvanas’ hands trail down her front and cup her firmly between her legs, her robes muffling the sensation to her great consternation. “You don’t need to pretend like you’re ignoring that it’s me. I know you want me. _And I want you, too.”_

Jaina’s breath hitched at the possessiveness and dominance in Sylvanas’ voice and let out a whispered _“Tides”_ as she ground down onto the Warchief’s hand. This was unprecedented — wholly uncharted territory for them. To speak so freely to each other at any point but the point of complete unraveling thrilled Jaina. She found herself whispering Sylvanas’ name in aroused reverence as the Banshee began to undo Jaina’s bodice and robes.

“This is the riskiest — ah — place for this, you know,” Jaina murmured as Sylvanas disrobed the archmage, teasing the newly exposed flesh and nibbling at Jaina’s neck. She shivered as she both heard and felt Sylvanas’ low chuckle against her skin.

“It’s been some time, Proudmoore,” Sylvanas replied as the last ties holding Jaina’s robes in place were undone, allowing the garments to slip to the floor with a gentle coaxing. “And, as fetching as you are in those clothes of yours at these meetings, I much prefer you bare and underneath me.”

“You want me that badly, do you?” Jaina teased. Something flashed in Sylvanas’ eyes for a moment — an emotion Jaina couldn’t quite catch before it was covered again by the dominance Sylvanas exuded. The Banshee leaned back in towards Jaina, bringing their lips but an inch apart.

“I think it’s _you_ who’s done the most of the wanting, Jaina. I see the way you look at me during war councils,” Sylvanas teased back before pressing her lips to the mage’s. Jaina responded earnestly, kissing Sylvanas deeply and tangling her fingers in the risen elf’s hair. She gave it a tug, which elicited a pleased hum from Sylvanas.

“We both know we both want this,” Jaina murmured between kisses. _“You_ said we don’t need to pretend,” she finished as she started to undo the buckles of Sylvanas’ pauldrons. She felt Sylvanas reach up to help her doff her armor and pulled back to look at the newly exposed skin.

Sylvanas was still beautiful, Jaina surmised, even with the changes undeath had brought to her body. She’d originally expected a far more broken, far less complete body. So to see Sylvanas’ skin for the first time had been a pleasant surprise, a sight she had found herself hungering more and more to taste each time they were together. Jaina knew the dangerous turn her thoughts were taking — that she had gone from simply admiring the way time and death had not minimized the elf’s natural attractiveness to actually _desiring_ Sylvanas in a way that went beyond allowing her to pleasure her — and she felt powerless to stop them.

Jaina leaned forward, then, in an act of boldness, to press her lips to the skin of Sylvanas’ neck and run her hands firmly up the Warchief’s sides. There was no spoken rule about Jaina touching Sylvanas in any way other than when the need arose while Sylvanas fucked her but it was certainly not something the elf had ever allowed her much of. So she felt emboldened when she felt the slightest shiver run through the Banshee Queen at her touch. _That_ was entirely new and had Jaina’s breath hitching as much as it may have if Sylvanas had done the same to her.

Sylvanas’ hands hesitated as she carded her fingers through Jaina’s hair and rested a palm on the archmage’s back. It was usually at this point that Sylvanas would redirect them, turn the tables and reassert her dominance over Jaina, but as Jaina’s palms ran over the risen elf’s breasts and the mage ran her fingers across cool nipples, Sylvanas stayed still. Her breathing, though Jaina knew it to be unnecessary, sped up. Her hand in Jaina’s hair tightened for a split second. And when Jaina leaned back to take in the sight of her hands on Sylvanas’ skin, she found the elf’s eyes were closed and the look on her face one of slightly suppressed pleasure.

Jaina pinched one of Sylvanas’ nipples slightly to test the Banshee’s response and was pleased to watch the Warchief’s lips part as she exhaled sharply. Feeling further empowered, she began to gently push Sylvanas towards the bed, kissing her neck and massaging her breasts until the Warchief’s legs hit the bed and Jaina pushed the elf down.

Sylvanas watched Jaina with muted appreciation akin to wonder as they crawled up the the bed, Jaina straddling the elf and leaning over to press their lips together again. Jaina held back a whimper at the feeling of Sylvanas arching up towards her, determined to maintain the position she knew she’d been not so easily allowed. She could feel it in the way Sylvanas’ hands would tense from time to time as they lazily explored the expanse of Jaina’s back and pulled her closer.

Jaina cradled Sylvanas’ cheek to lean her head away, allowing Jaina the expanse of the elf’s neck to explore with kisses and languid strokes of her tongue up the shell of Sylvanas’ ear that seemed to finally do the elf in — a quiet groan escaped parted lips as she shuddered and melted, one hand resting lazily on Jaina’s hip as the other cradled the back of Jaina’s neck not to guide the human but simply to rest there. The mage felt herself grow wet immediately.

More sure of herself than before, Jaina’s hands roamed Sylvanas’ skin, stopping to tweak a nipple or squeeze at a hip as she trailed kisses and love bites down the Banshee’s body — some of which had the elf releasing the quietest of moans as her body pressed up against the mage’s. She had been unsure to what degree Sylvanas was able to feel pleasure in their previous couplings but, as she continued to make her way down to settle between the Warchief’s thighs, she found that Sylvanas was _clearly_ able to feel pleasure just fine.

The wetness that awaited Jaina when she was finally where she wanted to be was nothing short of amazing to the archmage. She’d had no idea how much Sylvanas _really_ wanted her until that moment. The Banshee’s unique scent of cold steel, slight spice, and something floral was stronger there, mixed with a slight musk that had Jaina sliding the tip of her tongue between Sylvanas’ folds before she knew what she was doing.

_“Belore,”_ Sylvanas husked as Jaina’s tongue parted her lower lips and stroked up to her clit. Jaina hummed, taking in the Banshee’s taste as her hands came down to rest on Sylvanas’ thighs, thumbs rubbing the soft flesh on either side of her core. She took slow, languid licks at Sylvanas’ core, teasing her entrance before trailing back up to circle her clit, lavishing the bud with the heat of her tongue.

Sylvanas moaned openly when Jaina slid one finger inside of her — it was the most the mage had ever heard from the Warchief and it caused her to groan against Sylvanas’ folds. She curled her finger inside the elf, pressing at the soft ridges of flesh on her front wall before carefully sliding a second finger in and repeating the motion. From there, she began to pump her fingers in and out of the Banshee’s entrance, starting slowly as she suckled on Sylvanas’ clit.

The elf tangled the fingers of one hand in Jaina’s hair as the other gripped at the sheets while the mage worked her over, back arching of its own accord as she found herself reacting instinctively to Jaina’s touch. She hazarded a glance down and saw the woman’s fierce blue eyes staring back at her, the sight of a nude Jaina Proudmoore working dutifully between her thighs causing her to grow ever wetter and another moan to pass her lips. Jaina’s eyes fluttered at the noise and her fingers thrust faster.

Sylvanas’ climax was growing quickly — far quicker than she would have liked — but it had been quite some time since anyone had touched her. The only way she knew it was possible at all after her death were the relatively few occasions she’d taken herself since then. Still, the speed at which she felt herself building surprised her. It alarmed her, even, to feel the lack of control she felt under Jaina’s clearly-experienced hands and tongue. She choked off a small whimper as she tensed, trying to stop herself from reaching her peak.

Jaina, noticing this, brought herself face to face with the risen elf, redoubling her efforts with her fingers to make up for the loss of her tongue. Looking down into burning crimson eyes, Jaina fucked Sylvanas hard as she took in the Warchief’s struggle with a look of understanding.

“Let go, Sylvanas,” she whispered. “I know you want to cum for me. Let yourself.” Sylvanas groaned, eyes fluttering as her body arched and tensed further. “Relax. Just feel. Just let it happen.” The elf panted, a few of her muscles relaxing at a time. “That’s it,” Jaina murmured, pressing her palm against Sylvanas’ clit with each thrust of her fingers deep into the Warchief’s core, their eyes never parting. “Cum for me, Sylvanas…”

_“Gods—”_ was all Sylvanas managed to choke out before her orgasm hit, rolling through her suddenly and with a force she hadn’t felt since her death. Her hips rolled and thrust back against Jaina’s hand of their own accord as her eyes clenched shut and the hand gripping the sheet tore through the cloth a little. Slightly-suppressed moans and whines left her as she rode Jaina’s fingers.

“Oh, _Sylvanas,”_ she heard Jaina whisper as she guided Sylvanas through her orgasm. She was faintly aware of how Jaina’s hips pressed against her thigh, subconsciously grinding against her in time with the aftershocks that rolled through the risen elf’s core. She opened her eyes to see Jaina staring down at her with open arousal and wonder, lips parted as she slowly stroked Sylvanas’ core gently in a way that served to relax her. She laid her head down on Sylvanas’ body and kissed gently at her skin as she removed her fingers.

“Yes.” Jaina’s voice was firm and Sylvanas looked down at the mage resting on her chest with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yes?” Sylvanas echoed, her breathing still irregular. It had been out of the blue, so she wasn’t quite sure what, exactly, Jaina was saying ‘yes’ about. The mage tilted her head up a bit, then, to meet Sylvanas’ eyes.

“Yes,” Jaina repeated. “To your proposal.”

Sylvanas sucked in a short breath of surprise, searching Jaina’s eyes. Confusion and disbelief were written on her features plainly, as though the Warchief couldn’t summon the will to maintain her normally-impassive facade. A smile grew on the archmage’s lips.

“What made you decide?” Sylvanas asked after a long minute.

“I haven’t seen anything as beautiful as you coming undone beneath me in a long time, Sylvanas. If that is what I must contend with to maintain this tentative peace between our factions...I daresay I might almost _like_ being married to the likes of you.”

“Is that so?” Sylvanas mused. “And what of my crimes?”

Jaina sighed. That had been something she’d given more thought to in their time apart than she’d like to admit. _If_ she were to broker a more permanent peace between the Alliance and the Horde through a marriage with Sylvanas Windrunner, would she be able to accept and live with the things the Warchief had done? Her many thoughts on the subject always brought her to the same conclusion.

“Your actions were wrong — surely you know that since even you call them crimes — but I would also be wrong to truly hate you for them as so many others do.” Sylvanas raised an eyebrow at her words. “Although much of the Alliance and Horde leadership alike has experienced losing a home, losing loved ones, and losing battles...I doubt any save for perhaps Tyrande know what it’s like to lose those things so completely. Not like you do with Quel’thalas and your life...and not like I do with Theramore.” Understanding slowly dawned on the elf’s face. “When Garrosh...when he dropped the mana bomb on Theramore, there was nothing that could placate my rage or my pain, my hunger for vengeance, my thirst for the blood of those who had taken from me the things I held most dear.” Jaina rolled more onto her side, then, propping her head up on an elbow as her free hand traced patterns across Sylvanas’ chest. “I, myself, was ready and more than willing to perpetuate the cycle of hatred. I had an entire army of water elementals at my command, the fury of the sea at my back, and summoned more power than I ever imagined possible in my anger. The entire city of Orgrimmar would have been razed, would have become lost underwater whether filled with its citizens or empty — though I had honestly hoped it was filled.”

Sylvanas couldn’t keep the note of renewed hunger from her eyes as Jaina described the hatred that had boiled within her. Jaina knew that was from the bloodlust the risen elf would likely always feel on some level. But she couldn’t find it in herself to mind much — not if it meant Sylvanas was likely about to reciprocate. She rubbed her legs together subconsciously and felt arousal brush onto her thighs.

“What stopped you?” Sylvanas asked quietly as her hands began to slowly roam Jaina’s skin. The human hummed a quiet chuckle and laid back to allow Sylvanas to begin exploring her body.

“Honestly? A harsh verbal reminder of my values and lots of sex,” Jaina replied. Sylvanas chuckled, then, too, beginning to press kisses to Jaina’s chest and stopping to suckle on one of Jaina’s rapidly-hardening nipples for a moment.

“Are you simply trying to wed me so any time I want to raze a city you can fuck me?” Sylvanas asked, clear humor in her voice.

“That depends,” Jaina replied breathlessly. “How often do you feel like razing a city? I’d hate to be left wanting.”

“Oh, I can assure you, Jaina,” Sylvanas replied with a purr of dark humor. “My desire to raze Gilneas is _constant.”_ Jaina tangled her fingers in Sylvanas’ hair and pulled her up for a bruising kiss.

“Then fucking marry me,” she growled against the Banshee’s lips. Sylvanas groaned into the kiss, crawling fully atop the mage with one thigh pressed against Jaina’s core. Jaina could clearly feel her wetness spread against Sylvanas’ skin as she rolled her hips but found, to her delight, that she could feel Sylvanas’ arousal against her own thigh at the same time. She moaned openly, then, which was met with a rich chuckle from the Warchief.

“Are you sure this is for the peace between our factions, little mage?” Sylvanas asked. Jaina whimpered and melted underneath Sylvanas at the return of her sly dominance and Sylvanas took the opportunity to pin the mage’s hands above her head with one of her own. “Or do you just need to be fucked that badly?”

“What if — _Tides,”_ she paused, moaning at the way Sylvanas’ teeth pinched the skin of her neck. “What if it’s both?” Sylvanas leaned down to murmur into Jaina’s ear.

“Then the Alliance should be glad you’re so fucking good,” she replied, grinding down onto Jaina’s thigh so she could feel how wet Sylvanas still was.

Jaina gasped, unaccustomed to Sylvanas expressing her own arousal so openly. Bringing the Banshee Queen to orgasm had been nothing short of amazing — and it was the deciding factor in Jaina’s final considerations. Yes, she could live with wedding Sylvanas to establish peace if it meant she got to watch the woman who consumed her with just a look truly let go under her touch. A moan escaped her lips as Sylvanas bit at and marked Jaina’s neck. This gorgeous, powerful woman _wanted_ her. Wanted to _rule_ with her. And even wanted her touch.

She couldn’t even care that Sylvanas had marked her somewhere visible — another first. Though they knew a simple healing potion would remove any evidence of it, the mark sent a thrill through them both. The possessiveness turned Jaina on while the visual representation of Jaina’s submission turned Sylvanas on. Even though she knew it was mostly the lust speaking, Jaina almost _wanted_ to leave the mark visible. She felt so utterly _consumed_ by Sylvanas when she was underneath the elf, it felt almost like others _should_ know Jaina had been taken so thoroughly.

_They’ll know soon enough,_ she thought as Sylvanas’ hand roamed lower, brushing against the inside of her thighs. _And maybe, once we’re married...maybe I won’t have to hide the marks she leaves on my body._ Her breathing hitched as Sylvanas’ fingers spread her folds open gently, one finger tracing up from her entrance to her clit.

_“My,_ you’re wet, Jaina,” Sylvanas mused as she repeated the action. Jaina shuddered and squirmed under Sylvanas’ grip, trying to press herself firmly against Sylvanas’ exploring hand.

_“Fuck_ me, Sylvanas,” Jaina moaned, finding herself unable to slow her reactions or savor the moment at all because of just how arousing watching Sylvanas orgasm turned out to be. She locked eyes with Sylvanas as the elf smoothly slid two fingers deep in her core but did not move once they were fully inside of her. Jaina whined at this, shifting her hips around. Sylvanas made a noise somewhere between a low growl and a purr.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers,” she commanded the mage, hovering over her, red eyes burning into Jaina’s blue. Jaina let out a shuddering breath at the words, nodding weakly as she began to rock her hips slowly, bringing her core slightly off of the elf’s fingers before sliding back down again.

“Yes, Sylvanas,” she whispered as she fell into a steady rhythm, finding herself unable to break Sylvanas’ heated gaze even to close her eyes in a moment of pleasure as the elf curled her fingers slightly. A slow smirk spread onto Sylvanas’ lips as Jaina’s gentle rocking turned into a rhythm of sharper thrusts, the pads of her fingers running across and pressing into the soft, ridged flesh on the front of Jaina’s inner walls with each snap of the mage’s hips.

“That it, Jaina,” the risen elf cooed in low, possessive tones. “That’s a good girl.” Jaina groaned loudly and arched her back at the praise. “Fuck yourself on me,” Sylvanas continued, raking her eyes down Jaina’s writhing body as the mage increased her pace, whimpers and moans escaping her lips with nearly every thrust. “Show me how badly you want this. How badly you want _me.”_

_“Tides,_ Sylvanas,” Jaina breathed. She tugged gently with her arms, wanting to throw them around Sylvanas’ torso, wanting to rake her nails down the elf’s back or clench her fist in the Warchief’s hair. When Sylvanas didn’t let her arms go, she whimpered. “Please?” She asked. Sylvanas quirked an eyebrow, smirk widening a touch.

“Please _what?”_

“Please, Warchief?” Jaina replied without a moment of hesitation. The speed with which the mage had fully submitted sent a bolt of liquid heat straight to Sylvanas’ core and she couldn’t keep the force of that arousal from her eyes. “Please may I touch you?” Sylvanas exhaled sharply as Jaina fucked herself harder on her fingers, need shining in those wanting blue eyes.

“Yes, Jaina,” Sylvanas replied, voice laden with the heat of her arousal. “You may.”

When Sylvanas released Jaina’s hands from above her head, she immediately wrapped her arms around Sylvanas’ body, using it both to bring the elf closer to her and to use the leverage to fuck herself harder on those long, slim fingers she couldn’t get enough of. Their foreheads pressed together though they still maintained eye contact, Jaina’s need burning into Sylvanas’ gaze. Small noises escaped the human’s lips with every thrust and she redoubled her efforts when she saw just how aroused Sylvanas really was by the display.

_“Please,_ Warchief,” Jaina whined as her thrusting began to grow erratic. _“Please,_ my Queen...fuck me?”

Sylvanas’ eyes widened a touch and her breathing hitched when Jaina addressed her as her Queen — she hadn’t done that before and the Banshee Queen found herself wholly unprepared for just how hot it was.

“How could I deny you when you’re being _such_ a good girl?” She asked, slowly starting to match Jaina’s rhythm.

Jaina moaned loudly when Sylvanas began to well and truly fuck her. The sensation of just how _consumed_ she always felt by the Banshee was rapidly building and she was no longer capable of words, of coherent thought. Curses and prayers and Sylvanas’ name left her lips in strings of pleasure as Sylvanas thrust her fingers firmly into her core. She was quickly losing the ability to control the rhythm of her own hips and was content to let Sylvanas work her into a fevered pace.

Jaina’s orgasm hit her swiftly and unrelentingly. It crashed over her in waves and caused her to cry out loudly, shuddering and shaking under Sylvanas’ touch, who didn’t let up one bit, continuing to fuck the mage hard as she came undone. Their eyes burned into each other as Jaina gasped for air between cries of pleasure, one of her hands fisting the hair on the back of Sylvanas’ neck while the other raked down the skin of the Banshee’s back. She felt like she was going to have the breath fucked entirely out of her as Sylvanas _still_ fucked her, not allowing Jaina to come down from her peak and sending her straight into a second orgasm that seemed almost as though it weren’t separate from the first at all. Sobs tore from the archmage’s throat as she fought to keep her eyes open, fought to hold Sylvanas’ heated gaze, fought to watch as the risen elf’s lips parted slightly in awed arousal as a few tears spilled from Jaina’s eyes from the sheer magnitude of her orgasms, hearing Sylvanas coo filthy praises the entire time. Slowly, Sylvanas did bring her down from her peak, a purr passing her lips as Jaina continued to shake ever so slightly beneath her.

“So,” Sylvanas drawled. “Still feel like brokering some peace with me? Beginning a new era? _Ruling_ by my side by day and coming apart beneath me by night?” Jaina couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her at the Banshee’s words.

_“Tides,_ yes,” she replied shakily. “If it means I no longer have to wait for _weeks_ to feel you inside of me and I can stop dealing with the threat of your people as well as N’zoth...yes. Easily yes.” Sylvanas’ smirk eased into something closer to a smile, though the devious glint never left her eyes.

“I can’t _wait_ to see the look on that old wolf’s face.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Praise kink Jaina?  
> Praise kink Jaina.

_Maybe I’m crazy, I know you’re danger._   
_Baby, you could be, you could be…_   
_I’m falling, fading, and seeing angels._   
_Baby, you could be the death of me._   
  
_Maybe I’m crazy, I know you’re danger._   
_Baby, you could be the death of me._   
_I’m falling, fading, and seeing angels._ _  
Baby, you could be the death of me._

Sylvanas’ ear flicked in irritation and impatience. Jaina couldn’t blame her — the two of them had called for the Horde and Alliance representatives from each nation to gather, in Dalaran as usual, as they had to present their idea to the other leaders. The source of their shared frustration, evident in the way they both shifted from looking at each other to glancing at the doorway at regular intervals, was the slight tardiness of one who had agreed to be there solely at Jaina’s behest — Genn Greymane. When she’d told him that she had been in talks with the Warchief about peace, she knew two things: that she was wise in mentioning that to him before the meeting and that he would be, as expected, the most resistant and mistrusting of the leaders.

When the Worgen man did finally enter the room, Sylvanas rolled her eyes and Jaina barely resisted doing the same. He had come in Worgen form, looking ready to fight at a moment’s notice. It was clear what _his_ thoughts about peace were — though everyone already knew that. _Was it really so hard just to play nice?_

Sylvanas cleared her throat as Genn took his seat, drawing the attention and quiet of the other leaders. She stood, then, and strode around behind her chair, resting her elbows on its back as she regarded the rest of them coolly.

“We all know why we’re here, so I’ll cut to the chase,” Sylvanas began, her tone no less sarcastic or bitter despite the meeting being for peace...among other things. “I have been in talks with the Lord Admiral Proudmoore for some time now about how to ensure the precarious balance we have now lasts beyond the defeat of N’zoth. Our factions have both been spread thin and worn by our constant battling and, for the survival of all of our peoples, we need to maintain a level of _functionality_ after this larger mutual threat has been dispatched.” She heaved a much-put-on sigh. “I grow tired of sending my people blindly towards death and find the constant splintering of both the Horde _and_ Alliance to be somewhat juvenile. We are all leaders in this room, with responsibilities to our peoples’ livelihoods. I would go to any length to ensure the Forsaken may lead fulfilling lives after what they’ve been through — I’m sure any other leader of any other race would say the same for their own. And for me this extends to the entirety of the Horde. At this juncture, I think a permanent peace is the only way to give them that.” She looked at Jaina then. “Proudmoore and I considered carefully how to orchestrate such a thing and have come to a conclusion we hope you will understand the _logic_ behind.” A quiet growl came from Greymane. Hopefully he would listen to Jaina — which is why they had planned for her to say the actual _meat_ of the plan. “Proudmoore?” Sylvanas prompted, leaning against the back of her chair with her arms crossed.

“Thank you, Warchief,” Jaina replied, trying to ignore the smirk Sylvanas gave when Jaina addressed her so. “Yes, I have been discussing this at great length with her. Words and contracts would do no good here — the conflicts run too deep, and words on a page won’t prevent someone from acting. The only thing that would work here would be if everyone had incentive. If everyone’s actions would cause a directly negative effect on their peoples, something managed and enforced. This would have to be something binding and involve something powerful. And, though not everyone’s _first_ choice, we believe a union between the two most powerful beings in each faction would be the way to go about this.” Jaina swallowed, swallowing a knot of anxiety with it. “That is to say...a marriage. Between the Warchief and I, as joint leaders of the new union between our many nations.”

While most of the leaders at the table remained quiet, the vast majority of which simply looked utterly gobsmacked, Genn and Nathanos erupted into a shouting match that required the guards stationed in the room to restrain them. Genn spouted his typical hatred for the Banshee Queen and Nathanos accused Jaina of placing a spell on Sylvanas, though these protests from the undead man faltered slightly when he caught Sylvanas’ serious and disapproving gaze.

“You cannot be _serious,”_ Nathanos snarled, wild eyes darting between Sylvanas and Jaina. “You would _marry_ that...that—”

“That _what,_ Nathanos?” Sylvanas growled out, anger flaring in her eyes. Her tone was protective, almost possessive...and sweet _Tidemother,_ that fierceness made Jaina wet immediately. “Choose your words carefully, for that is your future second _Queen_ you speak of.” A shiver ran down Jaina’s spine, pooling low and turning to heat. Sylvanas Windrunner, Banshee Queen of the Forsaken and Warchief of the Horde, being fiercely protective of her was almost too much to bear in a room full of Horde and Alliance leadership. _“Other_ than those two,” Sylvanas drawled, “are there any objections to this? We understand it would require much negotiation between all nations to hash out the details but we feel it our best shot at something permanent.”

“There would be a binding pact involved beyond the marriage,” Jaina qualified. “Sylvanas and I have agreed we may need similar incentive to keep our tempers and differences in check.” That part was partially a lie, which felt foreign on Jaina’s tongue, but there _was_ a hint of truth in there — both women were obscenely powerful and had tempers like wildfire at times. Jaina then turned to the opposite end of the table, taking in the shocked appearance of the young King who sat in the chair far-opposite Sylvanas’. His jaw was still slightly slack as he clearly needed a moment to process the information. “What are your thoughts on this, Anduin?” Jaina prompted.

“I think… _Jaina,_ I…” Anduin lowered and evened out his voice. “You would subject yourself to this for the sake of the Alliance?”

“For the sake of _everyone,_ Anduin.” Jaina sighed. “It ultimately has potential beyond that — it’s...practical.”

_“Practical?!”_ Greymane snarled. “How could _anything_ related to that _Banshee_ be _practical?_ She’s a _tyrant,_ a _killer,_ who takes the lives of innocents with no regard for their souls, _twisting_ them and turning them into her _slaves!”_ Jaina took a measured breath.

“Genn...we are _all_ killers. There is not one in this room without blood on their hands. Sometimes or even often that of innocents.” Jaina looked at Sylvanas then, wanting her to see with her next words that Jaina was trying to work on her own stance. “And I doubt so many Forsaken would speak so highly of Sylvanas and how she saved them or gave them a second chance if she were making them all _slaves._ You know for a fact there are many who feel that way. You’ve interrogated many a war prisoner in your time.”

“They are _lies,_ Jaina! She has _programmed_ them to—“

_“Enough.”_ Sylvanas’ voice carried with the volume of a yell but the tone and resonance of a simply-spoken command. It echoed around the room and drew everyone’s attention. To her alarm, Jaina noticed black energy had begun to rise from the Warchief’s skin and her eyes burned practically as a Demon Hunter’s might if they were red. _“I do not make_ **_slaves_ ** _of my people, mongrel._ You would be wise to _educate_ yourself on my history and the history of the Forsaken if we are to remain in any sort of tentative peace. Besides, if this proposal passes...soon I will be _your_ Warchief, as well.” Greymane glowered at Sylvanas.

“Not _my_ Warchief,” he snarled quietly, though he refrained from saying anything further, to Jaina’s relief.

“Anduin,” Jaina began. “This would dissolve the Alliance and the Horde as we know it...and unite the respective nations under one leadership. Sylvanas would oversee the more military aspects of things, thus retaining her title of Warchief, and I would oversee things like internal relations and contracts, as Queen. Are you all right with us putting this to a vote? Just the idea of it, of course all of the other minutiae would have to be agreed upon in detail at further meetings.” Anduin took a moment to respond, clearly still collecting himself. This was obviously not what he’d had in mind when Jaina said she’d come up with a way to make and maintain a lasting peace between the Alliance and the Horde.

“I...believe what you both have explained here makes sense. I do wish you had come to me sooner but I trust your judgement as I ever have. Let us draft a vote, then,” he replied, unrolling one of the blank parchment forms they kept at either end of the table at meetings like these. “Sign under ‘yea’ if you would accept this proposal and accept both Jaina and the Warchief as your rulers equally. Stipulations can be decided if this vote passes. Obviously, the two in question may not vote here.”

With that, he scrawled his signature onto the parchment and passed it around the table. As various leaders signed, Jaina’s anxiety began to grow. What was she doing? What was she signing herself up for? She looked at Sylvanas, then, who had relaxed back into her chair and was inspecting a taloned gauntlet with feigned disinterest. 

She had been amenable to the Horde before...but Sylvanas was the second bloodiest Warchief the Horde had seen since its inception, second only to...Jaina looked away. No. Sylvanas wasn’t Garrosh — it was clear in her posture, her motives, and the way she touched. Where Garrosh had been aggressive, Sylvanas was defensive. Where Garrosh thought Orcs the master race, Sylvanas feared extinction. Where Garrosh was brash and destructive, Sylvanas was cunning and precise in her strikes.

She even had to admit Teldrassil had not been like Theramore, nor did it serve the same purpose. In both cases, a homeland had been destroyed. But where Theramore had been an attack of contempt towards Jaina under the guise of her actions in Dalaran, Teldrassil was militant. It was horrific, and excessive, but it at least had a sliver of purpose behind it. Would Jaina ever truly accept it as a course of action in war? No, but she could at least see how Sylvanas might.

Jaina chose, then, to think of the _positive_ potential of the union. It would put a stop to the faction wars for good. It could open up trade routes and resources each side never had. The domino effect would be immeasurable. And personally…

Jaina’s eyes slid back over to Sylvanas. The side of Sylvanas she’d seen in the few moments they’d share after sex was entirely unlike the mask of cold indifference and harsh sarcasm the Banshee Queen displayed on a day to day basis. Even the way the Warchief had behaved while they discussed overall plan for the marriage was different. Understanding. Even relatable, in many ways. A complex being contained within many emotional walls that would take some time to work through, but someone Jaina wanted to understand nonetheless. It was clear Sylvanas’ past and her lessons from her living days had not faded, had not been quite as tainted or twisted by undeath as she made everyone around her believe. She was comprised of so many defense mechanisms, however, that it would obviously take more than a good lay to get personal with her. _And what a good lay Sylvanas is,_ Jaina thought, trying not to flush as she looked away again.

When the parchment made its way back into Anduin’s hands, Jaina took in a shaky breath. That list of signatures would seal the course of her future and the future of the world at large one way or another. She watched his eyes carefully as he scanned over the page, tallying the signatures and clearly taking note of who signed what column. When he was done, he put the parchment down on the table before him with shaky hands.

“The vote has passed by a margin of two,” Anduin said, staring at Jaina. The archmage blinked. She was awash with a mix of emotions — surprise that the vote had passed, a small selfish rush of arousal, anxiety about the future, curiosity about who was in favor, and many other small reactions she couldn’t quite focus on. A low murmur spread through the room as many of the leaders mumbled to themselves in response to the news. Jaina broke eye contact with Anduin to look at Sylvanas, who met her gaze with a wry smile and narrowed eyes. Jaina took a steadying breath as her mild arousal made itself more pronounced. _Tides, get ahold of yourself, Jaina,_ she scolded herself internally.

“Very well, _King Wrynn,”_ Sylvanas drawled. “We will draw up some preliminary ideas for things that need to be hashed out. I encourage all leaders to take note of their own ideas and concerns, as well. In the meantime, however,” she fixed her gaze upon Jaina once more, “I believe my future _wife_ and I have some matters to discuss.”

“I understand,” Anduin replied. “We will adjourn for today, then, and resume talks on this tomorrow.” Sylvanas nodded in response and rose, smoothly striding to Jaina’s side and holding out a hand towards the archmage.

“Shall we?” She asked. Jaina wanted to swat Sylvanas’ hand away — the Banshee was clearly having too much fun with their situation — but knew it would be in poor decorum to do so, so she simply placed her hand in Sylvanas’ and rose as well, leaving the room of mildly stunned Horde and Alliance leaders behind them.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you can barely walk,” Sylvanas murmured darkly into Jaina’s ear once the door swung shut behind them. Jaina’s breath hitched.

“You know, we...we actually have some things t-to...discuss,” she stammered as the Warchief leaned in closer as they walked to place a series of open-mouthed kisses on Jaina’s neck before they emerged into the main section of the building.

“I know,” Sylvanas quipped, straightening her posture and dropping Jaina’s hand. “That doesn’t mean I can’t have my fun with you first.” Jaina glowered.

“I suppose not,” she replied, trying and failing to conceal how that idea really did appeal to her, as well.

“Portal us to Quel’Danil Lodge, Proudmoore.”

“You know, I have a first name,” Jaina grumbled even as she began casting. “You ought to use it every now and then outside the bedroom, given that we’re going to be _married.”_

“Very well, then. Portal us to Quel’Danil, _Jaina,”_ Sylvanas purred. Jaina rolled her eyes and stepped through. There was no need for disguises or even different clothing any longer — they’d soon wed and it would be no one’s business whether or not they got along beyond the political bounds of the union. Besides, Sylvanas had sway in Quel’Danil Lodge with a few of the locals, who were more than happy to turn a blind eye in exchange for a few favors or gold in the past.

Once through the portal, the two of them entered the inn they had emerged before and strode in swiftly. Sylvanas caught the attention of the innkeeper, who gave them a nod, and they went up to their usual room. It was, perhaps, Jaina’s favorite place to steal away to. It never felt much like treason when they didn’t have to hide behind lies and disguises.

Sylvanas pinned Jaina to the door as she reached behind the archmage to lock it, instantly attacking her neck with lips and teeth. Jaina tangled her hands in Sylvanas’ hair and arched her back, holding the Warchief close to her with a lingering sigh. The thought kept running through her head that this would be her reality going forth...except they wouldn’t have to hide or trade favors for discretion.

She could feel those chilled lips and that velvet tongue on her skin every night if she so pleased. She could feel those strong hands roam her body every morning if it suited them. She could hear that low hum Sylvanas always gave when Jaina pulled slightly at the risen elf’s hair. She could melt under the heat of that crimson gaze.

_“Fuck,_ Sylvanas,” Jaina whispered, breathless from the strength of those realizations.

“Eager, are we?” Sylvanas teased in return. Jaina scoffed, though her blush gave her away.

“Just...thinking about the future,” she admitted quietly. Sylvanas quirked an eyebrow as her hands came to rest on Jaina’s hips, pulling the archmage towards her as she slid one thigh between Jaina’s. Jaina rolled her hips without a second thought. “This is _actually_ going to be our reality,” she continued. Sylvanas hummed.

“That it is, my little mage,” Sylvanas replied. A thrill ran through Jaina at the Warchief’s words — she’d never stated any explicit claim over Jaina in any way before. The possessive side of Sylvanas, Jaina was quickly finding, was both strong and intoxicating, capable of making the mage weak. Jaina groaned, wrapping one arm around Sylvanas’ waist to pull them closer together. She used the hand still tangled in Sylvanas’ hair to pull the Warchief’s lips against her own, smothering the way she wanted so badly to tell Sylvanas that she really _was_ hers now. She couldn’t submit so fully so easily, after all. And if Sylvanas knew just how much power she really held over her...she shivered.

“You have no _idea_ what you do to me,” Jaina whispered between kisses. Sylvanas chuckled against her lips, taking hold of Jaina’s hips and starting to back up towards the bed. 

“Show me,” Sylvanas replied as she turned them around to push Jaina gently down onto the bed. The archmage began to unlace her bodice as she made her way to the top of the bed. Sylvanas, in turn, unbuckled her pauldrons and deposited them on the floor beside the bed as Jaina continued to make her way out of her robes. Sylvanas hovered over Jaina on her knees as she removed her breastplate and leather plackart. Jaina’s mouth grew dry at the way Sylvanas maintained eye contact — or at least watched the human, as she found she couldn’t keep her eyes off the almost-lavender, ashy skin of the Warchief as more was exposed to her.

Once she finished shuffling her way out of her smallclothes, Jaina looked up at Sylvanas with a coy smile and spread her legs. It made her feel vulnerable to do something like that so brazenly, but the widening of Sylvanas’ eyes and how the Warchief licked her lips before hungrily meeting Jaina’s gaze made it worth it. She felt herself grow wetter.

“My, aren’t you wet,” Sylvanas cooed as she leaned down onto her hands and knees over Jaina and kissed her. Jaina ran her tongue over Sylvanas’ lower lip. Sylvanas parted her lips in kind, allowing Jaina’s tongue to dance with hers as she ran a firm hand over Jaina’s heated skin. A low moan escaped the mage as Sylvanas ran her fingers over Jaina’s nipples, pausing to tweak them between her thumb and forefinger each time. Sylvanas couldn’t resist curling her lips into a smirk that threatened to break their kiss.

Jaina brought her hands up to cup Sylvanas’ cheeks as she deepened the kiss. The way Sylvanas knew her body after bringing her to heights she’d never known showed — the risen elf touched her in just the right ways at just the right times to get her arcing her hips up towards Sylvanas, praying silently that the Warchief would relent and give her some sort of contact — _any_ contact — where she needed her the most. But Jaina knew Sylvanas would not relent so easily.

Sylvanas broke the kiss to trail her lips up Jaina’s jawline, suckling gently on the lobe of her ear before humming quietly.

“You’re going to be _mine,_ soon,” Sylvanas murmured into Jaina’s ear. Even without pressure there, Jaina’s hips bucked slightly at the warm, rumbling undercurrent to Sylvanas’ voice. The possessiveness made her heart race. She was growing impatient. Sylvanas’ presence was beginning to consume her senses.

She scrambled to undo the fastenings that held the rest of Sylvanas’ armor to her, urging the cuisses, greaves, and leathers off the elf’s body. Sylvanas aided her but continued to kiss the mage’s neck, making it difficult for Jaina to both stay focused on the task at hand and even do so effectively. But the armor got removed all the same, and that’s what mattered to Jaina.

As soon as Sylvanas was bare, Jaina pulled her down on top of her, sighing as Sylvanas’ cool flesh came in contact with her flushed skin. Sylvanas rolled her hips and the end of that sigh turned into a breathy moan and Jaina rolled her hips up in time as the elf set a slow rhythm. Jaina wrapped her arms around Sylvanas and clawed gently at her shoulder blades.

“Fuck, Sylv,” Jaina breathed. “Fuck me.” Sylvanas stopped kissing Jaina’s neck for a moment to lean back and look at Jaina through half-lidded eyes.

“Is there a magic word with that?” Sylvanas taunted. Jaina narrowed her eyes.

_“Please_ fuck me,” Jaina replied. Sylvanas hummed as if in thought. Jaina continued to cant her hips up into Sylvanas’ body. She knew what Sylvanas wanted. She wanted to resist, to hold out longer, but she wasn’t sure she could stand it. Her moans became whimpers with the effort it took not to crack. Sylvanas kissed back up her neck to her ear and traced the edge of its shell with the tip of her tongue. Jaina shuddered.

_“Say it,”_ Sylvanas whispered before nipping at Jaina’s earlobe. “Tell me where your loyalties lie.” Jaina’s breath hitched. Sylvanas suckled at her pulse point briefly. “Swear fealty to me,” she murmured against the skin before biting down. Jaina moaned, arching her back.

“Oh, _Tides..._ Sylvanas…” Jaina could barely process while Sylvanas’ teeth were pinching her skin tightly, releasing for the briefest moments for the risen elf to swirl her tongue against the skin that bloomed red where Sylvanas had marked her. “M... _fuck..._ S-Sylvanas...my _Queen...fuck_ me,” she finally ground out, no thanks to how Sylvanas seemed to bite down every time she went to say anything. She felt the way Sylvanas chuckled against her skin.

“Good girl,” Sylvanas purred, kissing up the other side of Jaina’s neck while one hand slid down Jaina’s body, gently nudging her legs apart as a slim finger dipped into Jaina’s drenched folds. Sylvanas let out a low growl at how wet the archmage was already, sliding two fingers into her core without preamble.

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Jaina groaned, hips arching instinctively to meet Sylvanas’ fingers as they slid into her right up to the knuckle. After but a moment, those slim digits and Jaina’s hips fell into an easy rhythm. Jaina tangled one hand in Sylvanas’ hair, the other clutching her back as she held onto the elf to stay grounded. Her breath came in short, uneven bursts as she felt her self-control slipping quickly.

It felt so different from how it had before. The simple knowledge that Sylvanas was _hers_ and that _she_ was _Sylvanas’_ seemed to transform almost everything. Jaina swore it felt more tender when Sylvanas’ free hand roamed her body — yet no less commanding. She swore Sylvanas was growling more than usual. Marking her more than usual. _Praising_ her more than usual. It had Jaina raking her nails down Sylvanas’ back and crying out faster than she ever had before.

But it was _heavenly._ She wasn’t racing towards her peak — no, it seemed almost as though her orgasm was building slowly, as though perhaps time itself had been suspended and that room became a liminal space where naught but Sylvanas and her talented fingers and tongue existed...or mattered. She felt her inhibitions completely melt away as Sylvanas began to thrust into her harder and tweaked her nipples with her free hand. Jaina moaned and only felt the briefest flicker of hesitation before she spoke.

_“Please,”_ she moaned. “More...please give me _more,_ Sylvanas... _fuck.”_

The risen elf was more than happy to oblige, sliding a third finger in seamlessly on the very next thrust. She didn’t give Jaina time to adjust and the human cried out at how her walls stretched to accommodate Sylvanas.

_“Fuck,_ Sylvanas,” Jaina ground out, teeth slightly clenched, nails digging into ashen flesh. She could feel herself coming undone at the seams. This was _hers_ to enjoy for however long she wanted. This beautiful creature...Jaina opened her eyes, her sight met immediately with a burning gaze. This mesmerizing being utterly ruining her one firm thrust at a time would no longer have to be a question — she would be a certainty.

Sylvanas curled her fingers, then, hitting Jaina’s g-spot impeccably. Jaina gasped, her eyes clenching shut as pleasure bloomed in her core. In three firm thrusts, Jaina spilled over the edge. She clung to Sylvanas desperately, shuddering, as Sylvanas fucked her through her orgasm. She moaned Sylvanas’ name openly, slowly raking her nails down the risen elf’s back. Sylvanas’ fingers coaxed her orgasm into a considerable length, only slowing once Jaina’s hips began to stutter, unable to maintain the rhythm anymore as the aftershocks took over.

Sylvanas’ fingers stilled inside her, though the elf made no move to remove them. Jaina was grateful for that — there was something to be said for the feeling of a lingering fullness, the feeling of a lover staying close. Jaina’s core clenched down around Sylvanas’ fingers at the thought of Sylvanas truly being her lover from that point forward. Sylvanas hummed at the sensation, smirking down at the mage as she finally opened her eyes.

“That good, huh?” Sylvanas asked. Jaina tried to fake a glare at her but only succeeded in narrowing her eyes slightly.

“Fuck off, you _know_ you’re good,” she chided. The elf’s vanity seemed to know no bounds. “Besides,” she continued, squirming her hips around slightly and shuddering at the sensation. “Maybe I _like_ being so full.” Sylvanas’ smirk widened a touch.

“Is that so?” Sylvanas asked. Jaina felt the temperature around them dip ever so slightly. She couldn’t hide the way her breath hitched or her walls clenched again. It had been _so long_ since Sylvanas had fucked her like that. It sent her heart racing clumsily in excitement.

Two tendrils of dark energy emerged from Sylvanas’ back, then — one wrapping around Jaina’s wrists and pinning her hands above her head, the other trailing up her thigh as the mage arched her back and Sylvanas slowly slid her fingers out, moving up to slowly circle Jaina’s clit. The mage’s hips jumped slightly at the contact, still sensitive from her recent orgasm. But she didn’t make to pull away — she couldn’t bear to, not with Sylvanas about to fuck her like _that._

But before the tendril slid inside of her, Sylvanas paused, merely stroking the edge of her entrance.

“Is this what you want?” Sylvanas asked. She knew it was — this was not a question of consent. It was another power play. And Jaina could not even begin to resist it.

_“Yes,_ Warchief,” she breathed. “Please…”

Sylvanas cooed filthy praises into Jaina’s ear along with a couple Thalassian phrases she didn’t quite understand with her limited knowledge of the language. It mattered not — Sylvanas was pushing inside of her again, rubbing her clit firmly, and Jaina could _feel_ how the energy stretched her inside, how Sylvanas was testing her limits.

“More,” Jaina whispered. Sylvanas obliged. The fullness was almost overwhelming — and it quickly became so as Sylvanas began to truly fuck Jaina. The Warchief continued to stroke Jaina’s clit as she began to pump rapidly into Jaina’s core. The mage cried out loudly, her arms on instinct trying to come down to hold onto Sylvanas and ground herself but the other tendril held her back.

She felt like she was going to lose her mind. Coherent thought was becoming harder and harder by the second. She had nothing to hold onto and was entirely at the mercy of Sylvanas, who held her thighs apart with her knees. Whimpers and whines left the mage’s parted lips, her eyes closed and her back arched sharply. Her second orgasm was racing towards her like wildfire and all she could think of was Sylvanas — Sylvanas’ energy, her fingers, her skin, her _eyes._

That was all it took for Jaina to finish again — she cracked her eyes open for a moment, with great effort, and the burning intensity of those crimson eyes bore into her, possessiveness written all over the Warchief’s expression as Jaina heard Sylvanas begin to growl somewhere deep within her chest. Jaina’s hips thrust sharply and unevenly against the energy that filled her. Her biceps burned as she tried subconsciously to grab onto Sylvanas.

This time, Sylvanas eased her down immediately. And Jaina was glad — any more and she may have broken somehow. She was still shuddering and panting as it was when Sylvanas called her energy back into herself and drew Jaina close. Jaina kissed a few sloppy kisses to Sylvanas’ collarbone where the elf’s embrace had left her.

Sylvanas, though Jaina could not see it from her vantage point, was smiling. It seemed they both could get used to the arrangement — quite quickly.


End file.
